Demon 4- God Squad 0

by David Dwan

  She was pale but conscious, nodding gently to whatever her saviour was saying to her. He shouted something in what sounded like Russian down to the driver who nodded and shouted back in the same language.

  “I’m glad you’re okay,” Ross said to the Canadian as his gaze came to rest on her. She laid her head on his shoulder.

  “Craziest thing I ever fucking saw,” she said.

  “Amen,” Ross replied and was actually touched when he saw her smile at this. “What’s going to happen to all those poor people back there?” He added suddenly remembering the dead and injured he had just sleepwalked passed. “We have to help them.”

  “Don’t worry, we called the cops the moment it all kicked off.” Her face took on a haunted look. “A lot of people died here tonight.”

  He nodded and put a comforting arm around the girl. It was true, a lot of people where dead. And those many more who had survived would be scarred both mentally and physically for life.

  He had come here tonight to end demon time, and more by luck than judgement he had done so, or at least played an unwitting part in its destruction. But at what cost? Just as Minx had said, none of it was his fault, but still so many lives either cut short or damaged forever because of his being here.

  The road they were on seemed to smooth out and the bus picked up speed.

  “Guess I’m out of a job,” the Canadian girl said after a while.

  “Guess so.” Ross replied. And as they drove on in silence the young priest contemplated on what was next for him. Could he really go back to his normal life after what he had witnessed here tonight? Not to mention his encounter with Hauser and the dead creature in the box back in Mexico.

  No, that old life of ignorance was over now. For better or for worse. Suddenly that small village so many hundreds of miles away came into his mind’s eye. They were so much a like now that place, its inhabitants, and he. All touched by a darkness that had threatened to engulf them forever, yet they had survived, either directly by or just by mere mention of his name, thanks to a cantankerous old German.

  Hauser. Thought of the old man made Ross smile despite himself. Although he had only known the man briefly, he had felt, perhaps even more so now, an affinity with him. After all who in this world knew better than they what lurks within the periphery of the worlds gaze? Kindred spirits now more than ever.

  “What are you smiling at Father?” The Canadian girl said from beside him.

  Ross turned to look at her. She was an old soul in a young body who, in her own way, and like everybody else present here tonight had been touched a little by the supernatural.

  “I’m Shane,” he said.

  “Mika,” the girl replied.

  “Have you ever been to Mexico, Mika?” He asked. It was out of the blue but seemed perfect all the same.

  She looked taken a back for a split second then smiled. “No,” she replied. “But I don’t have a passport either.” She added. “I think it’s burning up back there somewhere.”

  “Don’t worry,” Ross said thinking of Mendez and his resources, after all that man owed him a lot. “I know a guy.”

  FORTY-ONE

  The official inquiry into the horrendous events of that night confirmed that all told, the death toll from the last ever episode of demon time was thirty seven, with a further seventy three injured.

  It was easy for a world not yet ready to accept the supernatural to believe the official statement (heavily edited on the quiet by a Vatican priest by the name of Father Mendez) that the whole horrific nightmare had been sparked off not by demonic influence, but by hallucinogens put into the free water handed out before the show by the production under the instructions of the show’s producer Michael Davis to help maintain the show’s illusion. A stunt that had gone horrendously wrong, resulting in such death, mayhem and murder.

  The fact that Davis himself had now disappeared added fuel to this as did the reported missing hundreds of thousands of Euros that had disappeared from the production company’s bank account at the same time. (These funds had actually been frozen and seized by Interpol, but that was on a need to know basis, which it was concluded, again on consultation with the Vatican. The public did not need to know.

  And thus, those who had survived that nightmare and may have ‘allegedly’ taken part in the slaughter could not themselves be held accountable for their actions. And so, despite the great loss of life no charges would be brought against any of the protagonists, who it was decided were as much victims of the whole sorry debacle as the dead or maimed.

  No, the only person held directly responsible for the horrific events of that night was Michael Davis. Davis’s name was added to the Interpol most wanted list, but so far it was as if he had completely disappeared off the face of the earth. As if the ground had just opened up and swallowed him if you would.

  The demon time website was shut down soon after, but as with most things on the internet, ripped copies of the previous shows, and some tantalizing saved footage from the last, were available for those web surfers interested, or ghoulish enough to seek them out.

  It wasn’t long before the show and its contentious ‘star’ became the stuff of internet myth. As the years went on, you would even find caricatures of the creature popping up in memes and e-cards particularly around Halloween time.

  The strange thing was though, after that last doomed show, those around the world who had once been positively obsessed with the so-called real demon but had never had the chance to see the show live, suddenly found themselves completely disinterested in the whole affair afterwards.

  And if you were to ask them now what had fuelled their almost rabid devotion to a clearly fictional creation. They would not have been able to tell you. ‘Guess it was just a faze,’ many might say with an embarrassed reddening of the cheeks, just like an adolescent teenage pop sensation crush.

  Although deep down they knew it was much, much more than that. It had been an addiction of sorts, and one they had now gladly kicked.

  FORTY-TWO

  The efficiency with which the Vatican had dealt with the murderous aftermath of demon time had left Father Shane Ross with the rather disturbing impression that they had dealt with similar events before, and as such were now well practiced in the art of the supernatural cover up.

  If Ross had been somewhat surprised at the Vatican’s talent for putting out misinformation regarding the occult. There was one thing that did not come as a shock. Their aptitude for inquisition.

  Following his escape from the carnage of the show, Ross had found himself whisked away to the holy city itself. Where he had endured four full days of medical tests and questions about what he had seen, heard, felt even smelt in his short time in the presence of the creature.

  There were times when he felt like the only survivor of an Ebola outbreak. He was constantly checked for fever, nausea and any adverse side effects. A stern looking nun took so many blood samples from him that Ross seriously began to wonder if in fact the woman was a vampire.

  A team of doctors prodded and poked him looking for any sign that he may have somehow been ‘infected’ by Minx. But infected with what he was never sure, neither he came to suspect were his examiners.

  Then came the questions. What did the creature look like up close? (Fucking horrible.) What were the effects of its strange voice on the young priest? (Fucking horrible.)

  They even rolled in a police style sketch artist who he gave a vivid description to of what Minx looked like as best he could remember, as he could never actually bring himself to look at the demon for more than a fleeting moment. Still, his response was the same. (Fucking horrible.)

  Finally at the end of the fourth gruelling day they left him alone. He had been sitting on his bed, contemplating how he might escape when an old, yet robust looking Hispanic priest knocked then came quietly into the room.

  “Now what?” Ross asked wearily.

  The old priest smiled and although he had never met him before, R
oss instantly knew who he was.

  “Where the fucking hell have you been?”

  “I see you lost your swear filter since last we spoke,” Father Mendez said.

  “Four days of this shit would do that to Mother Teresa!”

  “Fair enough,” Mendez relented.

  Before he realised what he was going, Ross was on his feet and hugging the old man.

  “I’m so sorry I couldn’t get in to see you sooner. They have had the whole place on lock down since they brought you here.” Mendez said, nearly squeezing the life out of Ross.

  The man might be old Ross thought as he finally released him. But he was far from frail. “So, am I a prisoner here or what?” Ross asked.

  Mendez looked at him for a moment not understanding, then he looked around the room and laughed. “No, Lord no. I’m here to get you out.”

  “I’m free to go?” Ross asked not quite believing the priest.

  “Quite free,” Mendez replied. “Everything is arranged as you asked,” he added. “Before all this of course.”

  Mexico.

  Ross had called Mendez the first chance he got after the bus carrying the bedraggled survivors had stopped at a hospital to drop off the wounded.

  Most of the crew had chosen to scatter then, conscious of the fact that the police would soon be scouring half the country looking for anyone involved. They hadn’t known then of the Vatican brokered general amnesty that was to follow in the days to come.

  Mika, for her part had decided to stay with Ross and he was secretly glad of it. Not just for her company and the fast formed bond they now had between them, but also as a reminder that everything that had happened there was not some strange fever dream. Or later as the Vatican put it, an acid trip gone horribly wrong.

  He had promised to take Mika with him to Mexico once they had been picked up by the Vatican but hadn’t seen her since.

  “Where’s Mika?” Ross asked.

  “Oh, she’s a piece of work that one,” Mendez said with a knowing smile. “She threatened to break in here single handed and to ‘bust you out’, as she put it.”

  “She’s okay?”

  “She’s fine. I managed to convince her we weren’t going to make you disappear or have you locked away in some Vatican vault. She is in a hotel not far from here.”

  “Good,” Ross said relived.

  “Shall we, Shane?” Mendez gestured to the open door and Ross was more than happy to follow the old priest as he left the room and walked out into a brightly lit Vatican hospital corridor.

  “I’m not going to miss this place,” Ross said as they walked.

  “Again, I’m sorry about all this, Shane. To be honest we all panicked after what happened. We didn’t know what to expect when we picked you up. We weren’t sure what had truly happened that night.”

  “All hell broke loose, that’s what happened.” Ross said.

  “I know, I read the transcripts of your interviews, not to mention the show itself before the live feed went down.”

  “Interviews? Well I suppose that’s one word for it. That whole acid in the water routine was quite a trick.”

  “That was my idea,” Mendez said with a shake of the head, his face grew darker. “Thing is, I think even our own people are starting to believe it.”

  “What? They think the whole thing was a hoax, even after what they saw, after what happened to all those people?”

  “It’s easier than the truth, Shane. It’s more that they want to believe it was only a fiction. It’s easier that way. Perhaps in the end even for the better.”

  “That’s insane,” Ross said in disbelief.

  “That’s human nature,” Mendez replied.

  “That’s bullshit.”

  “True, but the main thing is that you are okay. The creature is gone and that ghastly show is finished. In the end that’s more than I could ever have hoped for.” Mendez paused for a moment as they reached the hospital’s open reception area, due to the late hour it was all but deserted.

  “Father?” Ross gently touched the old priest’s arm.

  “So many dead,” Mendez said, his voice a whisper his face grave.

  “I know. I’ve thought about little else since. But you know what? It’s not your fault, just as I know it’s not mine. Michael Davis killed all those people with his greed.”

  Mendez nodded. “Well he certainly reaped the whirlwind for it.”

  “Yes he did,” Ross replied.

  “Still it’s a shame you couldn’t have retrieved any of those charms Hauser gave Davis.” Mendez said a little forlornly. “We checked the whole area after the clean-up. There was nothing left but a hole in the ground.”

  “I was a little distracted,” Ross said in way of reply.

  “I know, I’m sorry, it’s just they would have been very useful.” Mendez said.

  “The whole thing is best left alone,” Ross could see a taxi parked outside. The driver got out seeing them enter the reception area. “That my ride?” He said gesturing to the taxi.

  Mendez nodded. “It will take you to the hotel, Mika is there. The manager has a case for you. It has everything you need, passports, money and the like. Take it with our thanks.”

  “You not coming?”

  “No, I have much to do here. Those demons won’t fight themselves you know?”

  “There’s more?” Ross asked feeling the pit of his stomach drop into his boots.

  “No,” Mendez laughed heartily and it warmed Ross’ whole being. “We’ll, not that we know about for sure,” he winked and held out his hand. “There’s not many who have seen what you have seen and come out of it at the end, Shane. With body and soul intact that is.”

  Ross patted himself down. “I think I’ve still got both,” he replied.

  “How about sanity?”

  “That comes and goes,” Ross said playfully.

  “So, nothing new there then.”

  Ross ignored Mendez outstretched hand and hugged the man again. “Keep fighting the good fight, Father.”

  “I will,” Mendez replied his voice think with emotion. He released his hold on Ross and stepped back. “And say Hi to Hauser for me.”

  Ross began to make his way over to the automatic sliding doors leading outside. He paused for a moment and turned back to see Mendez still stood there watching him. He could have sworn the old priest had tears in his eyes.

  “I’ll see you again, Father,” Ross told him. Suddenly feeing emotional himself. Like he was leaving an old friend behind whom he may not actually see again.

  Mendez nodded. “And under better circumstances I hope.”

  “Amen to that.”

  “Amen indeed,” Mendez echoed.

  And with that Father Shane Ross ended is one and only visit to the Vatican. He wouldn’t miss it.

  FORTY-THREE

  When Father Ross had first entered the village of Santuario, he had been met with suspicion and fear. Due in no small part of course to the fact that he was a priest. He had gone there in the hope of finding some way to fight a creature that at the time he did not even believe was real.

  But instead he had found so much more than he could ever have expected. He had found a village touched by evil but one that whilst never forgetting the awful events that had befallen it, had nevertheless refused to be bowed by such horrors. And Ross had taken strength from that collective fortitude with him into the house of the demon Minx.

  Back then, although it seemed impossible to him now that it was only a few weeks ago. The mere sight of Ross’ dog collar had sent the children of the village running in fright. So much so that he had been obliged to remove it for fear of offending the more inebriated locals.

  He had felt like what he was, an unwanted guest from an organisation hated by their beloved saviour. Now he felt like one of them.

  “Place is kinda quaint,” Mika said as she steered their hire car through the narrow dirt road which ran through the centre of Santuario. She had insisted on driving
after they collected the car from the airport. ‘As you Brits drive on the wrong side of the road to the rest of the civilized world.’ And Ross had been more than happy to let her.

  “Yes it is,” Ross agreed as he stared wistfully out of the side window at the buildings passing by. Although he had only spent a few days in the village it was small enough for him to know that as they approached a fork in the road, if they turned right the road would lead up past the houses and end outside the church. Well, what was left of the building anyway.

  He and Hauser had walked up it at the very end of his first night here. And it had marked the end of his ignorance in all matters supernatural, and with it his innocence too.

  “Which way?” Mika asked as the fork in the road became visible through the dust kicked up by the vehicle as they drove . She glanced at the sat nav but it had failed them half a dozen times already since reaching the village.

  “Left,” he replied with a shiver. “Definitely left.”

  Mika glanced right then gunned the engine and sung the car left and onto the road which Ross knew would lead them down a steep winding road which weaved through the main centre of the village and into the large square which Hauser’s villa overlooked.

  “Careful, it gets a little steep down here,” Ross warned.

  “Shit, we ain’t seen another car since we got here,” Mika said. “Have you seen the way people have been staring at us since we arrived? I don’t think they’ve seen a modern car in years.”

  They passed a small café with three elderly men sitting around a table outside, the trio all stopped their animated conversation and stared at the car as it drove on. Ross noticed that one of the men picked up a mobile phone.

  Mika apparently noticed this too. “Weird,” she said. “You see that old dude? That’s at least the third time someone has gone straight to their phone when they saw us.”

  “Yeah,”

  “Whadda ya think, Mexican C.I.A?” Mika said with a chuckle.